Night Crawlers
by EnfysLords
Summary: Martin and Louisa find themselves stranded on Bodmin Moor. Takes place in series 3 after Bert's opening night but before "The Holly Bears a Prickle" concert date. Be warned this is a dark story containing violence.
1. Chapter 1

"And again?" The words were whipped away by the wind as Martin called out to Louisa.

There was a brief pause before he heard the starter motor struggle to turn. He watched the engine, the tubes, the cords, the pipes, looking for anything amiss but saw nothing. Cars were not his specialty.

He let the hood of his silver Lexus fall heavily back into place and stared at Louisa through the windshield. Her lovely features were tight in worry as she met his eyes. Being stranded on Bodmin Moor was never a good thing. At least dinner had been successful, driving all the way to Truro had been a wise choice. After the disaster at Bert's opening night it paid to be away from prying eyes and gossiping lips. Louisa was happy, he thought- maybe. He had never been very good at gauging things like that. They had yet to argue about anything though, so that was a good sign. Maybe.

Shaking his head, he climbed back into the car. "I think it's the fuel pump but can't be certain. Any signal?"

Louisa held out her phone towards the window. "No, this whole area is a black spot."

They sat in silence, staring at the orange hues of the sunset. The solitude of the moor was almost comforting to Martin. He liked the quiet, the absence of people. Well, with the exception of one. The one sitting beside him. Martin kept his eyes forward not trusting himself to gaze at the beautiful woman in the passenger seat, the woman of his dreams. She looked stunning tonight in a form fitting dress; beautiful, graceful, perfect. His eyes pulled to his left of their own accord. Just a glance-The sound of a door opening broke the silence and he watched as Louisa climbed out of the car.

"Better get walking then." She gave him a smile that made his heart bounce through his veins. "There should be a few farms around here. Maybe a pub."

"Louisa?" She stopped, bending down to gaze at him in the car. He swallowed. "Perhaps it would be best if we just stayed here?" The words clashed with his logical mind. Of course they should start walking. But he longed to be alone with her just a little longer, away from the ridiculous world of Port Wenn.

"What, all night?"

That sounded perfect. "No. People are bound to drive by sooner or later."

"Well you can wait here while I go and find help. It'll be a team effort." She closed the door.

Martin scrambled out from behind the wheel, his suit coat flapping in the stiff, cool breeze. He locked the doors, the headlights blinking in response, before trotting to catch up to Louisa. Separating was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'll just- I'll come with you then."

They walked side by side, Martin consciously shortening his stride to match that of Louisa's. She had brushed his hand twice at dinner, her fingers soft and small as they grazed his knuckles. His thoughts routinely went to their unfortunate ride in the taxi cab, embarrassment automatically burning at the nape of his neck every time he remembered his words, his stupid words. But the memory of kissing her, the elation of feeling her pull him to her, far outweighed any other miserable memory.

He slid his eyes to rest on her profile, trying to be discreet. The soft, evening light bounced off of her elf like features and the wind swept her hair back in gentle wisps. She looked powerful, her eyes scanning the horizon, alert, alive. The heat of desire rolled through him, making his heart thump against his sternum. He tried to quell the feeling, tried to shove it away. It was ridiculous to be feeling like this when his attention was needed elsewhere, such as focusing on finding shelter and help before nightfall. But it was useless. More than anything in the world, more than he wanted to be a surgeon again, to be out of Cornwall, to find help even, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, just hold her hand even. His eyes fell further down, over her neck and collar bones, into forbidden territory.

Louisa's eyes sharply turned to look at him, the lids ever so slightly narrowing. Martin jerked his chin away, turning his head to look at the sea, away from her. Caught.

"You're unusually quiet tonight."

"No I'm not." Panic tightened in his chest. He thought he had done very well conversation wise. He knew women liked someone who genuinely listened to them so that's what he did. He listened to every detail, every word, and tucked it away in his memory for safe keeping.

Louisa smiled at him and he relaxed. She wasn't cross. "Well, you're always pretty quiet I suppose."

Martin felt uncomfortable. He hated talking, especially about himself, so he did exactly what he knew he was proficient at and stayed silent.

"But, I mean, that's fine. In fact, I- I quite like that about you."

Martin's even stride stuttered, her soft words so foreign to him. "You do?"

Louisa looked away, a shoulder shrugging. "Yes."

Pride swelled through his chest and shoulders and he glanced down at Louisa's hand by her side. All he had to do was reach out and take it. He swung his hand closer to hers- But what if she got angry? Or brushed him off? Maybe she didn't enjoy holding hands? Or maybe she didn't like _his_ hands? His meaty, shovel-like hands.

He flexed his fingers self consciously, tightening the muscles throughout his arm. It wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth the rejection he knew would come. He knew he was a coward, always had been, always would be. Little Marty the big eared, bed wetting, clumsy coward. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew that people didn't change. He was no exception.

They walked in silence, the endless hills turning into more endless hills. A few stray sheep grazed in the distance, clumped together, preparing for nightfall and nighthawks swooped through the air, snatching bugs from the sky. The temperature was dropping quickly though, the air thickening with moisture. They needed to find a house or pub quickly before the rain came. His brain automatically began compiling multiple scenarios if the temperature dropped too low. The probability of hypothermia increased exponentially- Something warm and soft brushed his palm and he looked down, startled, to see Louisa's narrow fingers intertwining with his. She squeezed his hand and he automatically returned the pressure, curling his fingers up around her knuckles.

A thrilling warmth flooded his body and soul as they walked hand in hand down the road, the sky now a dusky blue. Her hand felt so delicate and soft, her forearm brushing against his. Automatically, they stepped closer to each other until he could feel the warmth of her skin. He tried to calm his trembling nerves, she would notice, but his heart thrummed through his veins even faster when her thumb, ever so slightly, stroked over his finger. It was a tiny gesture, of common affection, but it triggered something deep within him. Maybe he wasn't alone anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Night had fallen and Martin could feel shivers passing through Louisa's body. They were still walking but a faint light had finally appeared in the distance; a farm house. It was incredibly dark, the moon a faint blotch of light under a thick layer of cloud cover. Reluctantly, he released Louisa's hand and stripped off his jacket.

"Martin, really, I'm fine." She protested. He had offered her his jacket twice before, her thin shawl no match for the temperature, but her shivers were increasing.

"Low temperatures often have a detrimental effect -"

"Alright! I'll take it." She let him help her into the oversized garment but he couldn't help but notice that her earlier good humor seemed to be slipping.

"My core temperature is still high, I'll be fine. It's only a little further." Martin could already feel the cold air seeping through his shirt. He waited for Louisa to take his hand again but instead she folded her arms, her hands buried in the copious amounts of extra fabric. Tamping down a wave of disappointment, he curled his hand into a fist, trying to keep his fingers warm.

The light bobbed closer and closer until they reached what appeared to be a small barn. Light emanated from the windows, indicating a human presence. Two cars were parked in front. Martin immediately strode towards the entrance.

"Martin, wait." Louisa's hand gripped his arm. "Maybe we should keep going."

Martin felt his brow furrow in confusion. The damp chill had settled against his skin and his tie was irritatingly flapping in the breeze. "What are you talking about?"

Louisa warily stepped back. "I don't know, this just doesn't feel right."

Martin opened his mouth, a string of irrefutable reasons as to why they should stay preparing to be released but Louisa spoke first.

"What's that?"

He followed her gaze to one of the parked cars. A stack of packages sat on the ground, either being unloaded or loaded. There was nothing that marked them as being out of the ordinary. "What does it matter?"

Louisa ignored him and walked cautiously towards the package.

Martin waited, irritation beginning to crawl up his spine. "Louisa?"

She didn't lift her head, her words muffled, whispered. "Come here."

Martin walked quickly, trying to quell his irritation. "What?" The package came into view. "It's just a box with someone else's belongings in it. Can we please go inside now?"

Louisa's eyes met his and he saw her anxiety. Sighing loudly, he crouched down, his shoulder brushing hers. He looked closely; the box was filled with plastic, clear bags containing a white powder- his eyes widened as he carefully picked one up. "Crack cocaine. And a lot of it." The realization of what must be happening in the barn hit him and he dropped the bag. "We need to go. Now." He grabbed Louisa by the sleeve but she didn't need any encouraging.

A shaft of light shot into the darkness, momentarily blinding them, as the barn door was thrown open. Martin froze, automatically pulling Louisa behind him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing here?" The silhouette yelled. From the timbre of his voice, Martin could tell he was a young man, probably late twenties.

"We were just leaving-"

"Ollie!"

Another man appeared and both the figures moved towards them. Martin could hear other voices still in the barn.

"Martin, we need to go." Louisa's voice was right behind him, her fingers gripping the fabric covering his lower back.

The men moved in close on them, aggressive, and Martin put his hands out, palm up. "All we need is the use of a telephone, then we'll be on our way." They were sharp faced men with athletic builds.

"Our car broke down several miles back." Louisa's voice caught the attention of the younger man and he side stepped Martin.

"Hello there." His eyes scanned her body.

The older man, Ollie presumably, snickered. "Right, like we haven't heard that one before." He spoke with a harsh accent, the syllables garbled . "Get 'em in there." He swooped down and picked up the box of cocaine before going back into the barn.

Martin swallowed, "Actually, I think we'll just be going-"

"Get in the barn." A metallic click followed the words and Martin turned to see a pistol being leveled. But it wasn't pointed at him. It was aimed at Louisa.

Martin's stomach dropped. He felt like he was being split in two: half of him was filled with a primal rage, ready to rip this man's throat out while the other was heavy with complete and utter helplessness. He stood still, the latter taking control.

"Come on. In you go."

He watched as Louisa began walking, her terrified eyes meeting his.

"Wait. Give me your phones."

They did as he asked and watched as he threw the devices far into the darkness of the night.

"You. Hands on your head. And keep them there." The man waved the pistol at him and Martin began walking, slowly raising his arms until his hands were resting on his skull. The man was much smaller than him, most people were, but he had never been a fighter. 'Shoulders of a bull and hands of a boxer' his uncle Phil would tell him. But his stature didn't mean a thing without courage. And now Louisa would see him for the coward he really was.

The barn was cold, the ceilings were low and claustrophobic. Martin followed Louisa into the harsh, artificial light. Along with Ollie, two more men sat at a table, watching them. They lewdly gazed at Louisa and Martin was grateful that she was wearing his jacket. They were all young men, Ollie looking the oldest, mid thirties. He had a thin, red beard that made his face look wild.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Ollie asked, irritated.

Louisa stepped closer to Martin. "Our car-"

"Yeah, yeah, you told me about the car. What were you doing?"

"We had dinner, in Truro."

Ollie's attention was focused on Martin. He eyed him up and down then stepped in close. Martin automatically tensed, his entire midriff and ribs were completely exposed with his arms above his head.

Ollie pinched Martin's tie, turning it over to look at the label. "You look like a copper, you know that?"

The image of PC Penhale flashed through his mind. "No I do not, you imbecile."

"Martin!" Louisa hissed.

Ollie turned his focus to Louisa, his eyes resting on the suit jacket. "Let's just take this off, shall we? I know it's a bit chilly, but we can't be too careful. For all I know you could be hiding an Uzi under there."

Martin dropped his hands and stepped in front of him. "You stay away from her!"

The two men at the table stood, ready for action. But before Martin could say anymore, he felt a hand grab his hair and yank backwards. Louisa shrieked his name as he stumbled, knocked off balance. The tip of cold steel pressed into the base of his skull. He held perfectly still.

"I said keep your hands on your head." It was the youngest man, the one with the gun.

Ollie rubbed a hand over his face, annoyed. "Get some cable ties for him, please."

With the pistol still firmly planted at the back of his neck, Martin could only watch as the two men who had been at the table strapped his wrists together with industrial cable ties. The plastic bit into his skin as they yanked his arms upwards and fastened his wrists to an overhead beam. He was completely immobilized and could already feel the strain on his shoulders from the unnatural angle. His eyes flew to Louisa's and in that moment he wanted to tell her everything, tell her that he was madly in love with her and that he needed her in his life more than anything, that he couldn't live without her. But instead all he could muster was: "I'm sorry."

Ollie snorted. "What are you saying sorry for? We aren't going to hurt her. You, maybe, but a little lady? We aren't barbarians." He turned his attention back to Louisa. "Now, please take off the coat."

Louisa slowly shed the jacket, her eyes downcast, her form fitting dress revealed in its fullness. Martin bristled as Ollie let out a low whistle.

"So, you're telling me that you" he gestured to her dress "went out to dinner with this- " he pointed at Martin. "this big tree over here?" He leaned in. "You could do so much better, darling."

Martin tried to ignore the insults, they were only words, but a part of him knew they were true. More true than he ever wanted to admit.

"He's more of a man than you lot will ever be." Louisa spat.

"Is he?" Ollie handed Martin's jacket to one of the men. "We can probably pawn that for a couple hundred quid."

"How much do you want?" Martin realized he may have a chance. Money was the life blood of men like these.

Ollie looked perplexed. "I'm sorry?"

"Money. How much?"

Ollie circled him, a hand deftly reaching into Martin's back pocket and producing his wallet. He opened the wallet and pulled a card out. Drivers license. "Martin Christopher Ellingham. My, from Kensington no less." He wiggled his eyebrows at Louisa. "So that's why, because of these babies." He flicked out Martin's credit cards. "Unfortunately, I only take cash, not plastic." Ollie dropped the wallet, the cards clattering. "So what's a big city man like you doing in Cornwall?"

Martin kept his voice level, calm. "I'm a GP."

"A doctor?" His tone shifted.

"That's right."

Ollie's manner had changed, the facade of control slipping. He shared glances with the other men. "Go get him."

The men at the table snapped to their feet and ran out the door. Martin watched them, a feeling of dread settling heavily in his stomach at what they might bring back.

Ollie stepped close to him and rolled his sleeve up revealing the pale, freckled flesh of his arm. "What's that?" His voice was low.

Martin peered down at the man's arm where a splotch of discoloration marred the fair skin. It was most likely something benign but Martin's irritation with the situation was growing rapidly. "Judging from your skin tone and red hair, it's cancer. You're dying."

The air was suddenly forced from Martin's lungs as a fist snapped out and smashed into his exposed ribs. The pain was electric and his entire body tensed in agony. But through the pain his trained mind knew immediately that nothing was broken. Cracked maybe, but not broken. Struggling to breathe, Martin let his chin fall to his chest as he tried to regain his composure.

Ollie reached out and forcefully grabbed Martin by the neck. "Watch the attitude."

"Stop it!" Louisa pushed Ollie's arms away from Martin, physically creating a barrier between them. "What is wrong with you? Just let us be on our way."

Martin's side throbbed in pain confirming damaged ribs. But he hid it, something he had become a master at throughout his life.

Ollie rubbed his knuckles and slid his eyes over Louisa's form. "I would. I want to actually. But you see, you've really complicated my life" he smiled and ran his thumb over Louisa's cheek "and I just can't let you go." He reached into his pocket and retrieved several cable ties. "Take a seat, Miss-?

"L-Louisa."

"Miss Louisa. Go on, sit down. You'll be much more comfortable. Well, more comfortable than Mr. Doctor over here."

Louisa shook her head. "I'd rather not."

Her voice trembled and Martin felt a wave a frustration and shame. This was all his fault. He shouldn't have taken her to dinner in the first place. None of this would have happened. His side pulsated in pain as he heard the sound of more cable ties zipping into place. He wasn't a hero, never had been, never would be.

Lifting his eyes, he saw Ollie fasten one of Louisa's wrists to a vertical beam on the wall. Louisa lifted her free hand and swiped at her moist eyes.

"There, see? That isn't so bad. I just can't have you running off, sweetheart." He ran his fingers along her jaw but Louisa jerked her head away. Ollie raised an eyebrow. "You don't want me strapping your other hand down, do you?"

Martin felt panic well up within him at where the situation was heading. He pulled at the ties above his head but he knew they wouldn't break. A crash came from the door, breaking the tension, as the two men returned. Ollie moved away from Louisa, distracted. The men were carrying someone. It was a young boy, no older than sixteen, and his face was pale and covered in sweat. Martin gazed at the young face, it held an innocence that was lacking in the others. It was also creased in pain.

"Can you help him?" Ollie asked.

Martin's mind began forming multiple plans of procedure for diagnosis. "What's happened?"

"He got in a fight couple days ago. Knife wound."

"Where?"

"Leg."

"I need to examine him."

Ollie hesitated before flipping out the blade of a pocket knife. He cut the ties. Instant relief came over Martin as the pressure was taken off his shoulders and wrists. Gingerly he lowered his arms but bolt of pain shot through his torso. He gasped, a hand going to his side. The young man with the pistol stepped close to him and pressed the barrel above his kidney.

"If you try anything your bird gets a kneecap shot out." He whispered.

Martin nodded then walked slowly, warily, every movement sending streaks of pain through his torso. He clenched his jaw against the onslaught and crouched down next to the boy's inert form. The right leg of his trousers was damp and dark with blood, the fabric above the knee torn. Martin pressed his fingers to the boy's neck, finding his carotid. The pulse was thready and inconsistent, his skin hot and clammy. He was also shivering. "How long has he been like this?"

The men shrugged their shoulders but Ollie tapped his fingers against his folded arms, irritated. "Look, I just don't want his blood on my hands. Get him fixed up."

Martin pulled back the tattered strips of clothing around the wound and wasn't surprised to see that the surrounding flesh was an angry red color. The entry point itself wasn't deep, the bleeding nonexistent, but heat radiated in waves from it. "I suspect septicemia. He needs a hospital immediately."

"Well that isn't possible right now. Do what you can, clean it up or something."

Martin stood, the pain in his side becoming almost unbearable. He tried to control it, trick his mind into not feeling it, but it was to no avail. He could feel his thoughts becoming duller as the seconds passed, his tolerance for the entire situation shrinking rapidly. "He needs antibiotics within the next few hours or he will die."

The sinews in Ollie's jaw flexed in irritation as he glared at Martin. "So there isn't anything you can do."

"He has blood poisoning. Maybe if you had gotten proper help in the first place he wouldn't be like this." Martin didn't bother to tamp down his rising ire. "Or even better, maybe you should look into a change of career-"

Martin saw Ollie step towards him, his movements sleek and trained, and knew what was coming. But like most things in life, he reacted too late. Ollie's fist connected with his zygomatic. He felt his knees buckle as muted colors swirled behind his injured eye. He heard Louisa cry out to him. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the gathering moisture. Miraculously he was still on his feet, albeit a bit wobbly. His jaw felt loose, his cheek and eye numb.

"You really think you're better than us, don't you?" Ollie moved close to him and Martin flinched, his arms coming up to protect his face, waiting for another blow. But instead, Ollie reached out and took his wrists, slipping another cable tie over them. The plastic zipped into place, biting skin. Martin stumbled back as Ollie shoved his chest and wrenched his arms above his head, fastening his wrists to the low hanging beam again. The blood pulsed hotly under the skin where Ollie had hit him and he could feel the tissue beginning to swell. He sought out Louisa, instinctively seeking her presence. She stood still, her shoulders huddled against the cold. Her cheeks were wet with silent tears as she met his gaze, but her jaw was stubbornly set. Dipping her chin ever so slightly, she nodded at him, assuring him that she was fine. Martin squeezed his eyes shut, his whole face feeling hot, and leaned his head heavily against his arm.

A mobile phone shattered the strained silence and Ollie whipped the device out of his coat pocket. It wasn't a regular mobile, larger, blockier. He answered before the second ring. "Where the hell are you? We've been here for hours." Only the gentle patter of rain was heard as Ollie listened to the caller for a moment, his fingers ticking. "Well get a move on, we have a bit of a problem." He pointedly looked at Martin and Louisa. "No, worse. Witnesses."


End file.
